


Force Majeure

by amy_vic



Category: Die Hard (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Married Sex, Non-Explicit Sex, post-A Good Day to Die Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 20:16:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6092809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amy_vic/pseuds/amy_vic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is...becoming a routine with them. It's not perfect, but then, what is?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Force Majeure

It's been a long goddamned day.

The kids damn near started an international incident (the Bulgarian Prime Minister's 19-year-old son groped Lucy's ass when her back was to him, she knocked out two of his teeth, and Jack backed her up; that's the last humanitarian fundraiser dinner they're going to for a long while), John won't stop bitching about how she *still* hasn't changed her name on the house bills, even though they've been remarried for nearly two years now, and somebody used the last of the cream, so now Holly doesn't have any for the giant cup of coffee she just poured herself. Although, the way this day is going, she'd probably be better off with a double shot of whatever's at hand.

"Look, Holly, I'm just saying--"

Holly sighs and fights the urge to hurl her coffee mug at his head. She settles for dumping it in the sink. She'll pick up cream in the morning. "You're just saying too fucking _much_ , is what. You need to just shut up for once."

John shuts up. (Kind of hard to talk when your wife's got you up against a wall with her tongue in your mouth.)

They make it as far as the couch, which is quite a feat, considering that John's jeans get yanked down two steps out of the kitchen, but they don't stop kissing long enough for him to step out of them properly. (Also, the fact that Holly hasn't taken her hand off him would make that difficult.) It's been a while since they've made out and groped each other like teenagers, but this time, nobody's parents are about to walk in, which makes it even better. The kids won't either; Lucy always needs her own bed after incidents like this (after D.C., Lucy didn't leave bed for anything but the bathroom for three days straight), and Jack offered to make her pancakes in the morning, so he's sleeping over, and they way they both sleep, they'll be dead to the world until at least 10am, and probably not socially acceptable until noon.

Sex between them has always been great, fantastic sometimes, even though they have had to make a few minor adjustments lately. They can't go three times a night anymore (which is fine; Holly really likes being able to wake up in the morning and walk, not hobble, to the bathroom) and there's a little more store-bought lube, but Holly still loves the way John can get his hands on her body and make her tremble and shake and _want_ , and in moments like this she absolutely praises the doc who invented vasectomies, because they haven't had to stop and reach for a condom in over eighteen months. (Plus, no more pills; Holly appreciated what they did, but they threw her body so far out of whack, she still can't tell if she's about to start menopause or what. She's not in a hurry to go through that, but it would be nice not to have to worry every month.) They also can't twist themselves into some of the more...athletic positions, but it's okay because they both like when Holly's on top, and as long as she doesn't lean her hand on John's bad knee for leverage, they can both get their hands on a lot of each other's bodies.

They don't bother with the porn-standard blowjob between the making out and the so-called main event; there's no cameras, John's already mostly hard, and they discovered many years ago that John's dick is just that side of too girthy for Holly to be comfortable with. Besides, no blowing leaves more time for kissing and frottage and throwing shirts and pants and that goddamn ankle holster that John never takes off in random directions around the living room, and laughing that they hope nothing hits a lamp, or the tv. (The holster doesn't get thrown; Holly undoes it, checks that the safety's on, and lets it slip down to the pile that is her sweater.) Holly still loves the look on John's face the moment she sinks down onto him, like for a split second he can't actually believe that this is happening, but then she starts moving, and his faces changes; it's all _yeah, babe_ , and _keep going_ , and _I really want to see you come_. The difference this time is that he doesn't actually say anything, just grips her hips, exhales ragged little noises, and only takes his eyes off her face the moment before he comes.

After, when they've re-arranged limbs and John's undershirt has been sacrificed to clean-up until they can stop dozing and focus long enough to make it to the shower, John says, hesitantly, "...Can I talk now?"

Holly considers it. "Depends. Are you about to get on my case again about how I'm still Holly Gennaro on the phone bill?"

"No," John says as he moves a sweaty piece of hair out of Holly's face. "I was just going to ask if there's still leftovers in the fridge, or if we should order something in. Because I'm hungry, but don't think I have the energy to actually cook something."

Holly laughs and kisses John's chest. "Lucy ate most of it. She takes after you; burn all your calories beating somebody up, eat, then sleep."

"Uh, I'm pretty sure the beating up gene is from you, hon; I'm not the one who broke a guy's nose and knocked out two teeth on live tv," John replies. That moment made it onto the front page of several local papers; upstairs somewhere is a framed copy. Lucy had to be bribed out of taking it for Show-and-Tell that Monday at school.

"One of my finer moments, I admit," Holly smiles. It's been this many years, and she still gets a tiny buzz of satisfaction when she remembers how she nearly buried his paper in lawsuits. (Thornburg eventually quit, and now owns a used car lot. At least now he won't be terrorizing housekeepers and putting little girls on tv without their parent's consent.) "And in another of my finer moments, I will now order us food. What are you in the mood for?"

"Anything that takes at least 25 minutes to get here, so I have time to nap and then find my pants before the doorbell rings," John says, already half asleep.

Holly leans off the couch long enough to find her pants and get out her phone. "Pizza it is."

**Author's Note:**

> A.j. mentioned the other day about wanting some Holly/John, and I took the idea and...ran with it. Hell of a way to break a 3-year fic posting hiatus.


End file.
